Carefully Out of Reach
by Verdorbene Unschuld
Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late? New Chapter, sorry for the wait!
1. Chapter 1

Carefully Out of Reach

By Verdorbene Unschuld

Disclaimer: I own very little, extremely little, and Weiss is not included in that very small amount of things I do own. I'm using them for the entertainment of others and my own personal therapy. Think, I'm opportunistic to use anime to escape from real life? Sue me. Wait, on second hand, don't.

Warning: **Plenty **of angst, sadness, disease, hopelessness…it's depressing, NOT HAPPY. This is also Yaoi or m/m relationships. Aya seems just a tad fucked up, well he's anyway. 

Rating: NC-17, there's swearing, there's sex, there will probably be a little violence if I'm in the right mood because it adds a nice side dish to all the angst. 

Pairing: YoujixAya

Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late?

_If I close my eyes and think of every nuance of your face, every facet of your eyes, the exact texture of your skin, the particular softness of your lips, the silkiness of your hair; if I sculpt your image with my imagination, when I open my eyes, you will not be there. Fantasy is not reality, and that is all you'll ever be for me, a fantasy. So very far out of reach. I wish I had a better imagination, even in my dreams I cannot make you love me. _

Aya stared at the sink, watching as crimson liquid turned pink and then disappeared with the water. He grimaced; it seemed as if the darkness of his nights were seeping into his days. He wiped his mouth and reached for his tooth brush once again. There was no way he was going to spend the entire day with the taste of blood in his mouth. It was bad enough that all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and die, die, die. He was willing to do anything to get rid of what seemed to a constant pain in his chest, teaming up with a constant cough that only aggravated the pain. He slipped out of the bathroom, padding downstairs. Ken and Omi looked up from their food as he walked into the kitchen. 'Food, ech….' he thought, starting to boil some water for tea. He just wasn't hungry lately; drinking the tea was something he could handle though. And it helped soothe the pain slightly, he thought as he coughed once more. Omi frowned at him as the boy realised he wasn't going to eat again. Well, good for him. 

"Aya-kun, you need to eat something. You keep getting thinner and thinner and you never eat anymore. And you're constantly coughing and you won't be able to get better if you don't have any energy because you don't eat," he blabbered, wringing his hands and looking motherly. He even pulled out the big teary eyes, "I don't like seeing you like this, Aya-kun. And what if there is a mission, you'll need your strength then."

Aya looked at him until the blonde whimpered slightly and turned his attention back to his plate. But to appease the boy, Aya slid a piece of bread into the toaster. He was buttering it when Youji walked in.

"Wow. I might need to start getting up early. Aya's actually eating for once, how surprising," the blonde muttered, heading for the coffee pot.

"Almost as surprising as you awake at this hour," Aya snapped back, glaring at the man until he started to cough, breaking the staring contest. He sat down, turning the glare towards the piece of bread on the plate in front of him. It really held no appeal to him. He washed the first bite down with tea, ignoring the way it tasted like cardboard. He coughed again, and noticed with a frown that his hand was speckled with flecks of red. How long had those been there? He wiped his face, conscious of the amount of questions that would be bombarded on him if Omi or even Ken noticed and quickly placed his hand in his lap. He glanced up; Youji was staring at him from the other side of the room, frowning fiercely as he drank from his coffee. Aahh…the annoyingly observant ex private investigator; exactly what he needed. It wasn't as if he was _that_ sick anyways, it was just an insignificant chest cough and a little lack of appetite; nothing to be worried about. He stood, rinsing out his dishes and heading out of the room.

"Hey Aya," Youji called out, and the other two looked up as he turned towards the man, pausing, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"I have a shop to open," he responded, glaring at the blonde.

"Perfect, I can talk to you while you're doing that, don't worry," he stood, giving the man a challenging look over his sunglasses. Why the hell was the man wearing those anyway, he was in the house for fuck's sake. Aya just snorted and walked out the door.

"Soo…" Youji started as he jumped up on to the counter, watching Aya work and not offering to help. 

"What, Kudou?" he asked, voice completely devoid of all emotion. He wanted to get this over with.

"No way, you are _not _trying that scary psycho killer thing with me, Aya. Because I'm already seriously considering just walking away and letting you kill yourself." He took out a cigarette, causing Aya to start coughing again. "Or maybe I'll be an active participant," he sneered, deliberately blowing the smoke in Aya's direction.

"Just put the damn thing out," he said, trying to breathe normally.

"Then answer my question." 

"You haven't asked me a god damn question!" Aya half shouted, coughing more at the end.

Youji grinned a little sheepishly and put the cigarette out in an ashtray that had no reason for being in the shop. "What have you got?" he finally asked.

"Just a chest cold," Aya responded, pulling up the shutters. 

"Is that what the doctor told you?" Youji asked, hopping off the counter.

"I haven't been to the doctor. I'm fine," he admitted, sliding a hand through his hair. Damn bangs. He should cut all of it off, who needs hair, he thought vindictively as the strands fell right back into his eyes.

"Aya! You see a doctor at least once a week; you spend most of your free time in a hospital. Are you telling me that no one there has noticed your sick?" 

"I have to open the shop," he said, dismissing Youji and the question.

"What if it's contagious? What if every time you visit Aya-chan, you're risking her getting sick which could mess up her chances of waking up? Thought of that?" Youji, it seemed, would not be ignored.

"Will you let me open the FUCKING SHOP?" Aya roared, triggering a coughing fit that lasted a good five minutes. Afterwards, Aya stood there, shaking, leaning against the counter beside him as he tried to breathe. He looked up with eyes filled with more pain then Youji had seen in a long, long while. "You happy now?" he rasped out. Blood spilled down his chin, staining his lily white skin.

"Aya," Youji said, sounding unsure, "I'm worried about you, we all are." He reached over to wipe away the some of the blood.

Aya flinched away, hissing, "Don't touch me. Don't _fucking _touch me. Ever." He staggered back, only made angrier by his apparent weakness and inability to command his own body. It was one of the few things he had left and now it wasn't his. He shuddered. He looked up and glared at Youji, the man just had to push things too far.

"Fine, Aya, whatever. You do what you want to, you always do anyways, no matter whether…just…fine," Youji walked out, pausing to light a cigarette once outside. The distinctive rev of seven was heard not long after that. Aya turned and rested his forehead on the cool surface of the counter. After a few moments he slid down until he was on his knees. If he could just stay here for a little while, he wouldn't need to go back to bed at all. Hell, he didn't think he could make it up stairs. If everyone would just let him relearn how to breathe, to override the pain that seemed to engulf his chest. He just wanted; he wanted…want, want, want. This wasn't important, he needed to open the shop, it was late enough already. He put a hand to the top of the counter, using it as leverage to pull himself up when a pair of arms helped him. He didn't fight the touch this time, he just…didn't care, who ever it was, he just didn't care. It could be Crawford for all that it mattered to him. 

"Youji was right, well, about most things," his assistant said. Ken, it was Ken holding him up, he thought with relief. He could trust Ken, because Ken was one of those people who couldn't lie for shit. 

"How much did you hear?" he asked, wincing because Ken putting his arm on the man's shoulders did not help the pain in his chest.

"Pretty much from the 'soo…'" he said, shrugging and then grabbing onto Aya's arm because the movement threatened its tenuous hold.

Lovely. "I'm just tired, that's all," he murmured, leaning slightly against the reassuring weight that was Ken as he made it up the stairs. As if to contradict his statement, he started to cough. Damn traitorous body.

"Rriiight…" Ken said, sounding as if he was speaking to a stubborn child. Aya supposed he should be annoyed or angry at that but the feeling of apathy had not left him. So he continued up the stairs, using Ken as a crutch, hoping, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Ken felt the indignity of it. He probably wouldn't, stupid Ken and as ability to be nice _all the time._ Well, except when he was killing people, but that was beside the point. They reached his room and he lay down, immediately coughing at the prone position. Ken looked troubled for a minute before what appeared to be a light-bulb came on above his head, and he was out the door, promising to be back in just a moment. In the few minutes he had with no company he thanked that at least it wasn't Omi that was trying to look after him, not that he needed to be looked after. The scary blonde boy was at school, so he was safe for the next few hours. 

Ken returned, his arm laden with pillows. "I figured I'd take Youji's as he's semi-responsible for getting you so worked up, and…" he said, ignoring the glare shot his way, "the man's got tons of them. I don't know how he sleeps; it can't be good for his back." Aya stared at the man, who sounded uncannily like his mother as he fluffed the pillows and gently placed them behind Aya. "If that's everything, I'm going to go down to the shop. Call if you need anything." Ken looked at him for a moment, but didn't say anything.

"Are you sure you can handle the shop by yourself for a few hours?" Ken had been pretty kind to him today and hell, the man had taken the stupid bastard's pillows; he deserved a little concern in return.

"Yeah, we sort of missed the crazy school girl morning rush so it should be basically empty until the afternoon rush. Almost as empty as it will be tomorrow after the customers see my arrangements." Ken said brightly.

Aya repressed a smile, blinking slightly in the tiredness that suddenly overwhelmed him. Ken seemed to notice this as he was quick to leave, closing the door behind him. 

Aya's dreams were not pleasant. He could not remember them when he woke up, panting and coughing, and clutching his chest in pain. He lay there for a while, and wondered if Youji could quite possibly be right about seeing a doctor. Eventually, he stood and walked downstairs after running a hand through his hair. He walked into the Koneko to see a shop otherwise empty except for Ken, who was banging his head against the counter. He looked up as Aya cleared his throat and a distinct expression of relief came across his face. "Aya…" he said, "Can you make this pretty? Please?" he looked at Aya with desperate eyes.

Aya looked at the flowers and vase beside the man, then Ken and then turned to the slip he was holding in his hands. He took the piece of paper from Ken and read it, before glancing up at his desperate eyes.

"Hn." Was all he said, but he started to rearrange the flowers. He smiled internally at Ken's enthusiastic cheer. 

"I did the simpler arrangements first and was starting to work on the more complicated ones. Thank god you're here. Omi should arrive soon too, along with the hordes of school girls."

Aya just nodded, saving his strength and voice to deal with customers. Ken's pop music played quietly in the background, filling up the silence. They watched Omi run into the shop with a sense of trepidation. Not long after, choruses of, "WWAAAHHHH's!" could be heard throughout the store. Talk of a new girl could be heard through everything else, from Kyoto. Someone pushed the blushing girl up to the front as another introduced the three guys.

"You've met Omi-kun at school and that's Ken-kun," she said in an all-knowing voice, pointing to the man. He smiled and waved. "And that's Aya-kun!" Aya nodded at her, causing the girls to start screaming again. 

"WWAAAHHHH! He like's you!!!!" Aya, Ken and Omi winced as the windows threatened to shatter.

"Where's Youji-kun," the introducing girl asked, pouting, "She needs to meet Youji-kun too."

"Obviously, he's not here," Aya said, annoyed because anything to do with Youji annoyed him at the moment. 

"Mah, Aya-kun, you're so mean," she said, stamping her foot.

"But, he's so pretty," someone shouted from the back. Aya's eye twitched.

It only got worse. Aya tried to yell at them to 'Buy something or leave!' but the shouting made him cough and the girls, deciding he was sick, thought that surrounding him with more flowers would make him feel better. The torture continued until Youji appeared, smiling at them all, while Manx stood behind him. "Okay girls, time to leave," he said, taking a drag on his cigarette. He did not appear particularly happy.

Sakura stomped her foot, and glowered at Youji with her hands on her hips. Her voice overpowered all other complaints. "But Aya-kun is sick!" she demanded, "and there is no one to look after him." Other girls, took up the cause, agreeing and stomping their own feet until the plants started to shake. 

"We'll make sure Aya-kun is looked after, don't worry about that. We'll send him off to bed as soon as we can," Youji said. "Now, shoo," he continued playfully.

"How come she gets to stay?" another girl asked as she pointed to Manx.

The red-haired woman spoke before Youji could, "I'm Aya-kun's cousin." She pointed to her hair then his, as if to say it ran in the family. The girls looked back at Aya-kun, who was resting his chin on his hand and glaring at Manx.

"I'm here to make sure he's okay," she continued, and the glare switched to Youji who was staring determinedly at the cigarette in his hand where they were still at the door. Ken could have sworn he heard Aya mutter, "Well isn't that precious," but it wasn't the man's style. The girls filed out, taking their time and a few went to Ken to ring up their purchases. Sakura went over to Aya with her newly bought rose and placed it in his shirt pocket, ignoring his surprise. "Get better, Aya-kun," she said before, rushing out of the store to be surrounded by giggling girls. 

Aya walked over and closed the door behind Manx, switching the sign on it to 'closed' before he pulled down the shutters. He flung the rose on the counter he worked at before following Ken and Omi downstairs. Youji stared at the rose, all alone on the cold hard surface for a moment before shaking his head and leading Manx downstairs.

The mission was fairly simple, stop a drug shipment and then kill the leaders of it, to be done tomorrow. It had Youji annoyed. He was annoyed because despite the fact that the mission only needed three people and despite the fact that Aya was sick, the man had been allowed to accept. Manx hadn't said a thing about the fact that the man was obviously not in good shape, just raised an eyebrow at him. He had turned to Youji when he had voiced his concern and said, "So I won't yell 'shi-ne' when I strike a hit, I think I can handle that." He had given Youji a challenging look over his shoulder as he walked up the stairs, folder in hand, "Can you?"

'Can you?' Youji mocked in his head as he stood in the alley smoking a cigarette. Ch. Cocky bastard, he hoped he got shot. No, he didn't, he contradicted himself, instantly feeling bad for the thought. Aya shot or dying would be very, very bad. He heard the door slam shut and he looked to see Aya walking towards him. He stopped, carefully standing so that the cigarette smoke was blowing away from him. He was silent for a little while, staring ahead of him. "What the fuck's your problem with me lately?" he asked, violet eyes, boring into him.

"I don't like watching you kill yourself," he said, taking a drag.

"Says the man smoking tar and paint thinner," Aya responded, glaring at him.

"Dammit Aya…" he rubbed his forehead, stubbing out the smoke on the wall. There had been a time when this conversation would have been different, where Aya might have compromised just to make him happy, or shut up. But now, ever since the whole Neu thing, the friendship that had been slowly developing between them was gone. Aya didn't deal with betrayal well. And he didn't know how to handle this Aya. For a moment he wished desperately for it to be back when things were all right between them. When he could have dragged Aya to the doctor kicking and screaming and would have been forgiven. Wished desperately to have been able to explore the chance that…but no. No point thinking about it, he told himself as he realized Aya was talking. 

"-so I can't go to a regular doctor because Kritiker will find out and wonder why I didn't go to a Kritiker doctor and I can't go to Kritiker because they'll do something Kritiker-ish. I don't see what you want me to do, Youji."

The blonde in question sighed, not quite sure how to answer that. He had assumed, wrongly it seemed, that Aya's detestation of all things related to doctors and hospitals had clouded his judgement in concern to his health. But Aya had thought this out; he had for once thought of all the consequences of his actions, something he rarely did when it only involved himself. 

"Could you take it easy for a little while, at least? I don't like seeing you all sick like this," he almost reached out, almost, just as he might have oh what seemed like millennia's ago. But he didn't; wouldn't, couldn't now. Bitter resentment filled him at how he had destroyed the only thing that kept him sane, the thing that could have very well been everything for him without even a single consideration of how he might miss it. What had he told the man, 'the past can be more important than the present,' and Aya had understood that, maybe too well. He had looked at Youji and said, "Be careful what you consider the past," and had nodded and walked away. Youji hadn't understood then, but later, after everything was over he had understood it for the warning it had been. Aya had never said, 'I told you so,' but those words, along with the last ones of Neu had haunted him for a long, long time. Still did, sometimes.

He realised Aya was frowning now, contemplating the present question. The present, he reminded himself firmly, not the past. "That really doesn't tell me much Youji. I can't back out of the mission, I've already accepted, ignoring the fact that it would look odd as in the history of Weiss that has never occurred. So it's impossible for me to refuse future missions." Youji finally realised why Aya had come to visit him, why he hadn't explained before just to stop the argument. The man had said some stuff that was not particularly complimentary to Kritiker and where as in the shop, there were no bugs here. Stupid of him, not to think of it really. Aya leaned against the wall as he continued, looking tired, "unless you want me to stop working at the Koneko for a little bit, I don't see how I would be able to." The man smirked slightly, "not that I wouldn't mind a break from the fan girls."

"Well that's that then. We'll ship you off to the backroom for the big orders, because Omi is at school and he's the only other one semi capable of serious flower making though he still can't do your Victorian flower language thing but otherwise, you are officially banned from working there," Youji said firmly.

"And when did you get the jurisdiction to make these choices?" he asked, but there was humour in his eyes.

"Just now, and with this authority, I'm sending you off to bed."

"Okay then, are you planning on waking up early to tell the other two about this plan of yours?" he asked, pulling himself away from the wall. The light from the streetlamp shone more fully on his face and Youji could see that there were pain lines around his eyes.

"Sure. I have the morning shift with you anyways," He shrugged, and Aya gave him and odd look. But they walked inside together in relative companionship and when Youji bid Aya good night he received an actual response instead of just a nod.

*********

TBC

I have no idea what I'm doing with this, but what else is new?


	2. Chapter 2

Carefully Out of Reach

                             By Verdorbene Unschuld

Disclaimer: I own very little, extremely little, and Weiss is not included in that very small amount of things I do own.  I'm using them for the entertainment of others and my own personal therapy.  Think, I'm opportunistic to use anime to escape from real life? Sue me.  Wait, on second hand, don't.

Warning: **Plenty **of angst, sadness, disease, hopelessness…it's depressing, NOT HAPPY. This is also Yaoi or m/m relationships.  Aya seems just a tad fucked up, well he's anyway.  

Rating: NC-17, there's swearing, there's sex, there will probably be a little violence if I'm in the right mood because it adds a nice side dish to all the angst.  

Pairing: YoujixAya

Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late?

A/N: This is for MiniMorr because she's an amazing writer and a great ego boost and because of other things too, like the fact that she has to deal with her muse…who's kind of scary…

A/N #2: Thanks for the reviews and sorry about all grammar mistakes and such, especially to StrawberryPocky, who was very kind despite the fact that my mistakes were her pet peeve.  

_If I close my eyes and think of every nuance of your face, every facet of your eyes, the exact texture of your skin,  the particular softness of your lips,  the silkiness of your hair; if I sculpt your image with my imagination, when I open my eyes, you will not be there.  Fantasy is not reality, and that is all you'll ever be for me, a fantasy.  So very far out of reach. I wish I had a better imagination, even in my dreams I cannot make you love me.  _

The next day was boring for Youji.  Aya came downstairs at about nine-thirty appearing freshly showered.  He poked his head into the shop to make sure everything was okay without him to supervise before heading to the back room.  Aya came out to the store front around eleven o'clock, telling Youji that the paper for the orders were taped to each bouquet.  He paused for a moment, opening his mouth, then closing it, and then opening it again.  Youji raised an eyebrow in his direction.  "I…," Aya started, "Thank you…for this," he said, waving his arm around the shop.  Youji blinked at the redhead; he had never seen Aya so ineloquent.  

"Sure Aya, no problem," Aya looked up at him, nodded once resolutely and walked out the door.  Youji stopped him with an indignant, "hey." 

Aya turned back, frowning at him for being loud and annoying.  Yeah, well, the man should be used to it by now.  "You know, you weren't given most of this day off to go gallivanting," he stated, smirking at the man.

Aya held up a piece of paper, a list written is his neat precise hand.  "Hn," he said, before elaborating, "I'm going grocery shopping.  We won't be able to go this evening and who knows if anyone will be up to it tomorrow."

"Don't spend to much time out," Youji said, mother-henning, "you'll need to sleep before we …go out tonight."  Aya sniffed arrogantly at him, and whirled, heading towards his car.  He only coughed once on the short trip to the Porsche.  Youji knew, because he watched.

****

Despite his less than enthusiastic response to Youji's last comment, Aya returned shortly after two.  He was coughing more, obviously having pushed himself do whatever he had done.  He managed to growl at Ken though, when the man held up a teaspoon and bottle of cough syrup.  Aya stormed upstairs, leaving the rest of the groceries and Ken behind in the kitchen.  Youji snuck upstairs a half an hour later before going for a cigarette break, knowing he wouldn't be able to once the school girls were in the shop.  Aya was fast asleep, curled up around _his _pillows.  The blonde watched him for a moment, coughing and murmuring in his sleep before walking downstairs and outside.

Youji watched Aya out of the corner of his eye.  He seemed more out of breathe than usual as he ran through the corridors at Omi's directions over the comm.  He was still able to do his job though, Youji thought as he watched the redhead kill yet another guard.  They were almost at the target, and then they would be finished.  The drug shipment had been destroyed by Ken and this was the last of the ring leaders.  Both men were sprayed with blood as the swords master chopped off someone's head.  The redhead smirked as the bodiless part flew and knocked a guard out.  Aya caught Youji's eye for a second, before sprinting forward, obviously going for the actual target.  Youji took out guards, always aware of where his team-mates was.  Aya stumbled for a moment but slipped through the guards while Youji kept them distracted.  He walked into a side room and not long after, left it, attacking the guards with a renewed vengeance.  The target hadn't even had a chance to scream. The remaining guards were finished off quickly, now being attacked from both sides.  Once everyone around them was dead, Youji became aware of the smell; Aya must have hit someone's intestines.  

"All targets eliminated.  We're leaving," Aya informed Omi before walking over the bodies towards Youji carefully.  It was only when he stood in front of the blonde that he fell, his coat falling open to reveal that the blood he was wearing wasn't just that of the enemies.  

Youji paced, observing the doctors and nurses running in and out of Aya's room.  He didn't remember driving here, to the Magic School Bus Hospital.  He could only recall his own franticness and Aya lying in Omi's arms.  He wasn't sure in the blood that dribbled out of parted lips was from the man's sickness or if his lung had been punctured.  He only sure that there were a hell of a lot of doctors going into the ICU where Aya was and very few coming out of it.

"I contacted Manx," Omi said, coming back from outside where he had made the call on his cell phone.  The boy sounded tired, he probably was.  The sun was already starting to rise.  Youji could have used the call as a chance to get away and have a smoke to calm his nerve but he didn't.  Aya could die the moment he walked out of hearing distance.  So he paced.

Omi looked like he wanted to cry.  Youji could sympathise, but at the moment he couldn't comfort.  He didn't want to touch _anyone_ right now.  It was still the mission in his mind and you just don't _touch_ people you care about on a mission.  Ken wrapped an arm around Omi, glaring at Youji over the blonde's head.  Ken blamed Youji.  Ken was wondering where the fuck Youji had been when Aya had gotten shot.  Youji was wondering the same thing.  How could he not have noticed? He had sworn to himself he would be vigilant but Aya had gotten shot under his watch just the same.  How had that happened?  Youji stopped pacing and leaned against the hospital wall, trying to tune out the hospital sounds around him and his own churning guilt.

Some unknown amount of time later, a grimfaced doctor walked out of the doors.  He looked them over before stating a crisp, "he's alive," and walking away.  They watched as he rubbed his forehead wearily and accepted a cup of coffee from the station nurse's hand.  More doctors came out, giving little bits of information.  He was going to sleep for a while but would be fine.  No they could not see him.  A visitor might be allowed in when he awoke depending on his situation at the time.  They smiled at Omi, because he was cute and little and sad and blonde.  And because, unlike Ken and Youji, it was so easy to forget he was an assassin, especially as he didn't have any blood on him, having followed everyone's progress on the computer. No one asked for insurance, no one asked for Aya's ID.  They were Kritiker's Weiss, the pet favourite, and no one here could touch them.   All the same, they didn't feel very untouchable.

Aya opened his eyes and then closed them quickly as he groaned.  He coughed; sending his lungs into a screaming agony he could do nothing to stop.  Tears slipped down his face due to the pain as he finally recognized where he was from the smell.  He was at the hospital, but why?  He remembered the mission in bits and pieces, including the feeling of the bullet punching through his chest.  That was, he thought, a pretty good reason as to why he might be here. There was a button beside his hand; one of those nurse assistance ones.  So he pressed it and waited.  A nurse came running through the doorway, pausing as he stared calmly at her.  

"You're awake," she said, panting slightly from her run to his room.  'No shit,' he thought, but kept it to himself.  You never knew which nurse might be dealing with your catheter.  

"I'll go tell the doctor," she continued and he thought about nodding to her but decided that moving hurt too much to try.  After a moment she left, presumably to get the physician, who arrived fairly quickly after that.  He took Aya through multiple tests, most which hurt, but it seemed he passed.  And thank god for small mercies, the good doctor increased his pain medication on the IV attached to his arm that Aya hadn't even noticed.  

The nurse was shooed out and the doctor stared at Aya in considering manner.  "Yes?" Aya croaked out, his throat dry.  The man busied himself with pouring a glass of water as he started to speak.  "It was mentioned that you had a chest cold of some sort before the surgery," he started, glancing at Aya for confirmation.  The redhead 'hned'. "It wasn't a chest cold.  In your surgery, we noticed an inconsistency.  Fujimiya-san, we found a tumour in your lung.  I'm sorry for being so blunt, but you have lung cancer."

Lung Cancer.  Aya blinked, trying to process the information under the heavy amount of drugs he was on. "How far has it spread?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.  

"We aren't entirely sure.  More tests will have to be done, but your body was already under great stress, we did not want to continue to sedate you.  In its own way, that bullet saved your life.  This might not have been spotted until it was too late otherwise," the doctor paused, pursing his lips.  "I will let you rest now, Fujimiya-san.  Once again, I'm sorry." 

He was almost at the door when Aya called out for him.  "Doctor, I would ask that you do not inform my team-mates of the information you have just given me.  I also wish that they not be allowed in this room," he said, looking at the man.

"If that is what you want…" the doctor trailed off uncertainly.

"It is what I asked for," Aya assured. 

***

"Is he alright?" Ken asked, pushing up from his chair as the doctor walked over to them.  They had watched the nurse run into Aya's room and then to the doctor.  The doctor had then stridden quickly into the room.  None of this had helped make them feel any better.  Omi was already sniffling, trying to keep the tears back.  

"He's fine," the doctor assured, "and awake.  He has also requested his solitude."

"Yeah, he does that a lot," Youji muttered heading towards the door.  The doctor stopped him, "you will respect his wishes or you will be asked to leave the hospital, is that understood?" Some people clung to those close to them; others pushed them away after hearing the news Fujimiya had.  The doctor was going to give him what he wanted.  Youji glared at him until Omi interceded, saying that they were just concerned and would they please be notified once Aya was having company.  The doctor nodded and walked away, speaking to a nurse for a moment as she sent dirty looks Weiss' way.

Ken and Omi sat back down, wondering aloud why Aya wouldn't want to see them.  Ch.  Youji could answer that, it was because it was _Aya_.  He walked away, heading outside for the cigarette he had been craving for hours, ignoring the furious look shot his way by Ken.  Aya wasn't dead.  He wasn't going to be added to the long list of dead trailing behind him.  His own carelessness had not caused Aya's death.  He hadn't killed Aya.  He took a deep drag from his cigarette and heaved a sigh of relief.

****

Aya stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room.  It was so white, pure white, just like the walls in the room.  Just like everything in the room.  Except for him, he was not white.  He laid there, blatantly un-white in the pure white room.  His room should be black or red.  This white scared him, he would only destroy it was his touch.  He'd turn it a disgusting and sickly grey, or make blood pour out the cracks. He didn't belong here, along with everywhere else.  He had lung cancer.  He was, in all likelihood, going to die.  Not in a blaze of mission glory, no quick death.  He would have his wish; he would not have to deal with his hair getting in his eyes for a while.  Chemo would take care of that.  He should have been more careful with what he wished for.  He turned his head to stare at the pure white wall to his left that he didn't deserve.  No white for him.  He closed his eyes as he whispered a few words, each one signally a tear to slip unheeded down his face, "Aya-chan, I'm sorry…"

*****

Youji was back in time to watch Manx walk into Aya's room. He noticed how no one gave _her _a problem about going against Aya's wishes. Ch. He just wanted to see the man, to see with his own eyes that the man was alright.  Why couldn't Aya understand that? Youji sighed and wished his mind would stop thinking.

Aya knew it was Manx that had walked into the room by the sharp sounds of her heels hitting the floor.  He turned his head from the white wall to the woman standing beside his bed.  She too, did not belong in this room.  

"You have been made aware of the situation, I presume?" he said with a calm he didn't feel.  He was very, very close to either causing someone serious harm or crying in a corner.  And he disliked both options, immensely.  She nodded and looked at him…with pity and that was it.  He couldn't take it any more, he wanted to start screaming, wanted to leave here now.

"And am I to assume that I am off active duty?" he continued, voice sharper now with rage and despair.

"For the moment," she clarified, sounding subdued.  Aya snorted in derision.  Lies, lies, lies, he wanted to scream and throw things at her with each accusation.  He took a deep breath.  Manx looked at him again, appraisingly, most like wondering what the hell he was going to do.  She should be fucking wondering, he thought savagely.  

"Aya," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.  He turned his gaze back towards the ceiling.  She could say nothing that could help him.  Nothing.  Why would they paint the room white?  It was hospital, didn't they get blood on the walls and such.  How did they wipe it all away and have no stains?

"Aya," Manx said again, sounding more professional.  He turned back towards her and she smiled grimly at him.  "Due to the lack of cancer of any kind in your family it has been concluded that smoke inhalation from explosions along with second hand smoke are the causes of your disease.  Persia feels that part of responsibility lays on Kritiker and therefore, you're entire medical treatment will be paid for by the organization.  In consideration to the amount of work you have put into the company, you will also receive a monthly salary.  You're sister's care will continue to be provided and we have moved Aya-chan.  She is now in a room where you will have your own bed should you be in need of a prolonged term in the hospital."

"Thank-you," Aya said, feeling truly grateful.  He had been worried about whether they would continue to protect Aya-chan.  There were still a lot of people who would not mind hurting Abyssinian, even if Abyssinian no longer worked anymore.  

"You'll have to leave Weiss, Aya," Manx said regretfully.  "The only contact with Kritiker should be the checks and the Magic School Bus Hospital."

He nodded painfully; having already decided to cut ties anyway.  "I'll just not come back.  And they'll think it some weird Aya-thing because, hey, I've done it before.  And they'll expect me to come back and I just won't," he said, shrugging as much as he could.  

"Aya…" she said, looking guilty and a little surprised that he would be so acquiescent.

"I just won't," he repeated glancing up at her before looking away. "I want to leave here," he said quietly, plucking at his IV.

"Your things have already been moved and I have some street clothes for you.  I figured you would want to leave as quickly as possible.  The doctor's going to write you a prescription. I thought we would 'send you down for x-rays' and you just…wouldn't come back."

Aya nodded again, keeping all thoughts hidden.  Gods, but Kritiker worked fast, but then, he knew that.  It was only when she started to walk out, when he realised that this would most likely be the last time he saw her, that he said something.  Let some of the sorrow and regret and the what-ifs out. "If they ever figure out that I'm not coming back…would you tell them I said goodbye?" he asked her.  

"Sure, Aya-kun," she said, starting to look unprofessional again.

"And Manx," he called out again before speaking softer, "would you tell Persia thank you for me.  Thank you," he repeated the last word, locking eyes with her until she got the message.  Her eyes widened and she sighed, getting teary-eyed.

"They're going to miss you," she claimed, coming back to place the bag of clothes under the blankets.  

"I know," he stated solemnly, a little warmed by the declaration because he hadn't been sure, not really.

Her arms were around him and then gone again before he realised it.  "They won't be the only ones," she whispered, looking at him sadly for a moment before grinning, "that's from Birman too.  She said she'd kill me if I didn't squeeze in a hug during our chat so you can blame it on her." With that she left, walking out the door.

She put the normal amount of strut in her step as she walked out, heading for the nurses station.  Manx nodded at the doctor as she passed him before taking a cup of coffee from a nurse.  She knew Weiss wanted to talk to her but they could just wait.  She needed a few minutes before she could lie straight to Omi's face. 

*****

Youji watched as they wheeled a drugged up looking Aya out of his room. "Hey, wait a minute," he called out loudly but they didn't even pause.  Instead, Manx appeared in front of him, looking annoyed.

"Calm down, Kudou.  There's no reason to panic," she reprimanded, her hands on her hips.

"Where the fuck are they taking him?" he asked, watching as they pushed the injured man into the elevator.

"He's going for a cat scan; he'll be back soon," she huffed; moving her hands from her hips to cross over her chest.  Youji had never seen her fidget so.

"A cat scan," Omi piped up, "isn't that a little after the fact?"

"They're just being thorough," she said, which wasn't quite a lie.  Youji didn't look like he particularly believed it, but wasn't going to make a scene and be kicked out of the hospital.  Manx smugly walked back to her conversation with a nurse.

****

As soon as they were in a private room, the doctor unhooked Aya from everything.  He handed Aya two prescription bottle.  "Take these as it says on the front and come see me in two days.  And for god's sake take it easy," he seemed nervous.  Aya couldn't blame him.  The man left quickly and Aya picked up the bag Manx had given him, dumping the contents on the bed.  He didn't like how slow he was moving.  Aya changed into the pair of jeans and a t-shirt, mourning the loss his old coat as he put on the hip length black leather jacket.  The woman had given him a large stack of cash, which he pocketed.  There was also a set of keys, a fake card of identification with the name Arishima Hideo on it and his picture and a note.  The keys joined the cash as he read the slip of paper:

_Take a cab, your Porsche is already waiting for you.  The keys are for your new apartment, the Ivory Towers.  You're name is Arishima Hideo_ _and there is a complete file folder in the apartment.  All your belongings have been transferred.  Good luck and goodbye._

Aya sighed, and popped the note in his mouth, mangling the writing beyond repair with his saliva before spitting it out in the garbage.  The Ivory Towers, Kritiker had been kind to him.  They were expensive and close to the hospital and he appreciated it. He walked out and went to the main entrance where he found a phone to call for a cab.  By the time Weiss figured out he was leaving, he would be long gone.

*****

TBC

Sooo…absolutely NOTHING happened in this chapter.  Well…except for you finding out that Aya's sort of dying and leaving Weiss but none of the good stuff…you know sex and more angst!!!! Well it's coming folks, hopefully next chapter or the next at the latest.  Who knows.  Anyway, I will be back….

And yeah, I know, I'm not being original with the titles and I don't like this chapter so don't be surprised if in a few days from now something new is up.


	3. Chapter 3

Carefully Out of Reach

                             By Verdorbene Unschuld

Disclaimer: I own very little, extremely little, and Weiss is not included in that very small amount of things I do own.  I'm using them for the entertainment of others and my own personal therapy.  Think, I'm opportunistic to use anime to escape from real life? Sue me.  Wait, on second hand, don't.

Warning: **Plenty **of angst, sadness, disease, hopelessness…it's depressing, NOT HAPPY. This is also Yaoi or m/m relationships.  Aya seems just a tad fucked up, well he's anyway.  

Rating: NC-17, there's swearing, there's sex, there will probably be a little violence if I'm in the right mood because it adds a nice side dish to all the angst.  

Pairing: YoujixAya

Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late?

A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter, but I have an excuse.  I hurt my knee and couldn't make it down the stairs to the computer, actually couldn't make it pretty much anywhere at all.  And then as soon as I could come downstairs without collapsing at the bottom, the whole big power thing happened.  Such is life.  I haven't even answered emails yet…bad, bad, bad me!

A/N #2: This is for Dark Hunter because she's just that damn special and because it's fun to dedicate stuff and she's continuing Picking Up the Pieces.  If you haven't read it, what are you doing here? Hers is a much better story and it's long!

A/N#3: Deunan was kind enough to inform me that there might be a little confusion as to the whole evil Kritiker in chapter one vs. the nice Persia/Manx/Birman that are in chapter two (Thank-you ^_^) Though it shall all be explained in more detail later on in the story, I don't want people to be as confused as I am every day of my life!  Deunan seemed to understand what I was saying when I wrote this to her, though it confuses the hell out of me!  So here goes nothing: Well, Aya thought that due to his illness and its duration that he might be deemed invaluable and taken out of Weiss. When Persia and Manx found out Aya was sick, they realised that it was most likely due to Youji's excessive smoking and when Aya's house was blown up by Persia's brother. Persia also put Aya into Weiss where he spent time with Youji, so Persia has guilty Aya feelings. It's Persia and Manx who are protecting Aya from Kritiker because they are nicer…more explained later.

A/N#4: I think the author's notes are longer than the story…

_If I close my eyes and think of every nuance of your face, every facet of your eyes, the exact texture of your skin,  the particular softness of your lips,  the silkiness of your hair; if I sculpt your image with my imagination, when I open my eyes, you will not be there.  Fantasy is not reality, and that is all you'll ever be for me, a fantasy.  So very far out of reach. I wish I had a better imagination, even in my dreams I cannot make you love me.  _

Youji hated this bed, absolutely loathed it.  The very rectangle was the bane of his existence.  For one, it was really, really uncomfortable. The hardwood floor looked like a fucking fluffy white cloud from his position on the concrete slab, stretched out with his hands folded behind his head.  It could have been better.  He wouldn't have made a single word of complaint if he had someone beside him.  But he was alone on the bare mattress, and with the exception of the bed, he was alone in the room.  No one would give a flying fuck if he smoked in here anymore so he lit up, taking a shuddery breathe to calm his nerves.

Kritiker had been fast, he had to admit, but then again he had always known that.  Still, one had to be impressed at how quickly they had packed Aya's belongings and shipped them to destinations unknown.  He wondered when they had started.  As soon as he woke up from the anaesthetic? No, that wouldn't have given them enough time to deal with the bookcases and desk or to garb the last bit of Aya's laundry from downstairs or his favourite towel from the linen closet.  While he was still he surgery maybe.  Probably, Youji decided, blowing smoke rings up at the off-white ceiling.  Something, he supposed, had occurred in the midst of the operation to force Kritiker to make the decision that their best team was better off without Kritiker's best assassin as a leader.  He had no doubt that it had been Kritiker's choice and not Aya's.  The empty room had only proved it.  The swordsman was not so capable an assassin to be able to become invisible in a crowd while wounded and wearing a hospital gown.  Manx had appeared more regretful than surprised when the phone had wrung at the nurses' station to inform them that Aya had run off after punching a man in the face and stealing his clothes.  She could have been an actress though, as Omi at least, was convinced and was trying to convince them that Manx hadn't known about it, even if Kritiker had.  

Youji had just raised an eyebrow at the other blonde when they reached Seven and noticed that though a certain leather jacket and katana was missing, while everything else remained untouched. They had driven home, hoping that they might catch Aya picking up some stuff by chance or something.  Anything.  Youji had stormed upstairs and thrown open the door only to be greeted with this.  This absolute emptiness that remained even while he inhabited the room.  So he had sat down on the bed as the other two came in, Ken frowning angrily at his apparent lack of distress.  They had walked around the few bare rooms, looking for a clue to Aya's whereabouts, his state of mind while Youji watched from his position on the bed.  Eventually he flopped down, spreading out along the mattress.  Not long after that they left him, Omi muttering something about Aya 'coming back like always'.  So here he was, sitting in a so very empty room, ruining the last little smell of Aya captured in the mattress with cigarette smoke. He sat back up, crushing the end of the cigarette into the wall beside the bed before standing up.  He walked out of the room, only pausing once he reached the doorframe.  Where would he go now? He could hear Omi puttering in the kitchen and god only knew where Ken was, maybe out looking for the elusive redhead.  Youji could do that, he could start looking for him.  He just couldn't do that now though; he needed a few hours for the emotions surrounding him to fade enough that he could start thinking rationally.  So he walked into his room and grabbed a bottle of vodka and a pack of smokes before turning back to where he had come from.  

He walked through the bedroom to what had been a sacred room in Aya's eyes.  Aya had put it after the bedroom so that if someone broke in, that precious room would be protected with his life. Almost the entirety of the walls had been covered in wooden bookshelves which had been filled as much as humanly possible.  There had been a sofa in the centre of the room standing over a plush rug, a coffee table before it with some coasters to protect the wood from tea stains.  Now it was empty.  Empty, empty, empty.  The word resounded in his mind.  He wasn't headed to where the couch had been though; he was heading to the window.  Not long after Aya had joined them he had built a small window seat in this room.  The man had later confided in Youji that it gave a beautiful view of the sun rising.  Youji curled up on the cushioned seat and stared down at Tokyo in all her glory.  The sun was about a quarter of the way up in the sky and as he drank and smoked, he had to agree that it was an awe-inspiring sight.  He watched it for a while and if anyone had come in and noticed the tears in his eyes he could have blame it on the brightness of the glowing sun.

****

Aya stared at the bottle of sake and manila folder left by Birman.  He sat down in a chair that wasn't his and dumped the contents of the sealed envelope on an unfamiliar table.  He walked throughout the apartment first, noting the small amount of furniture that had been his before this.  There was more room in this place than the last, but then what did he expect when the old one didn't have a kitchen or such.  They had known who he was when he walked into the lobby downstairs, smiled at him as they had handed him the security card for Arishima Hideo.  Aya looked down at the papers and cards sprawled along the table.  One page fell and he noted with curiosity that it was the only one with handwriting on it, something against protocol due to the fact that it could be traced.  Birman then, Manx had already said her good-bye and Persia, if for some reason felt the need to say anything to him, would have followed all the rules his precious self had created. He picked it up for the floor, looking at the neat script for a moment before actually reading it.  It talked about various things, she apologized for things that she had not caused, talked about how horrible his old bed had been and that she had bought a new one for him as well as other furniture.  She spoke of how she would miss him and made no apologies for the breech in protocol except for the excuse that if he could do it, why couldn't she?  He was asked to get rid of the letter as soon as he read it, as well as his identification as Aya Fujimiya if he had any.  But there were a few lines that continued to draw his eye even after he had finished reading the entire letter.

_Do you hate him, Aya? Youji, I mean.  I hope you don't.  You've lived off hate for so long, but in this case, with what is happening now and how close you were to him; I don't think it would be a good idea.  Besides, we both know he would have never smoked again if he had known this would happen.  Hell, he probably would have tried to make them banned from __Tokyo__. You always inspired his chivalrous instincts.   Maybe it's better that you moved, in a way, because you won't have to see each other, be reminded…I hope you can forgive him for his part to play in this.  You two were too close to let this destroy your friendship…_

Friendship, eh?  Aya threw that papers down on the table and got up, and walked out to his new balcony.  He rested his arms on the railing, his hands dangling four stories above the ground.  That's all they had ever been, despite Aya himself sometimes wishing …otherwise.  And Kritiker had known that, of course they had, because Kritiker made a point to know everything when it came to Weiss.  Friendship.  The word pissed him off, but then a lot of things were at the moment.  The pity that he'd seen in Manx's eyes; that had been in between _every_ line of Birman's letter. The fact that he had to accept the charity of Persia of all people and that he was scarcely able to stand at the moment galled him.  The very idea that he had cancer made him ready to rip into something, but he didn't even have the strength to do it.  That Birman thought it was necessary to get involved in something that had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with him and Youji.  That it had been Youji, who he trusted most, that had sentenced him to this, had very well killed him upset Aya, but what upset him more was the fact that he _couldn't_ hate him.  He needed something to hate at the moment, so he could ignore the fear and pain, but he just couldn't.

"Youji, you son of a bitch," he hissed to the sky, blinking back tears.  The last bits of colour besides blue would be leaving it soon, but it was still pretty.  He had liked it better from his window seat at the Koneko.

******

Youji groaned as woke up, keeping his eyes closed to prevent the light from hurting his sensitive eyes.  Holy shit did his head fucking _hurt_.  He stretched, trying to sprawl out on his bed, and promptly fell.  He hit the floor and the amount of pain he was in doubled and then doubled again as a bottle that had held alcohol at one point hit him between the shoulder blades and his head smacked against the ground.  He forced himself onto his hands and knees, the room spinning as it showed how much it hated this occupant compared to the last one.  Why the hell was he in an empty room? Empty room…empty room…something was coming… empty…empty…AYA!  As if Aya himself had willed it, the remembrance of the man's name brought back all that had occurred lately.  He managed to make it to the bathroom, some perverse idea that one just didn't toss your cookies on Aya's floor.  Or what had been Aya's floor.  He sat there for a while, missing the feeling of pale fingers holding his hair back, a cup of something that had always made it better, even if Youji had never been able to figure out was in the horrid tasting thing.  He sighed and forced himself up after ensuring that he wasn't going to be sick anymore.  Youji splashed some cool water on his face before he walked carefully back to the other room, still a little off-kilter.  He picked up the cursed bottle and the pack of cigarettes.  Nothing left in either. He glanced up at the sky, wincing at the brightness of the light, early afternoon he supposed.  The day after Aya had left; what a lovely day this was going to be.  Maybe it was a good thing it was halfway over. Bottle and packaging in hand, he walked into his own room, ready to make himself look close to somewhere decent.  

Omi was sitting in the kitchen when Youji came down, showered and dressed.  He looked like the little kid he really was, lost and alone, wondering why everything around him was falling apart.

"Omi," Youji said, sitting down across from him, not beside him.  The boy looked up with his big sad blue eyes and Youji sighed.  Aya could have at least said good-bye. He pushed the thought aside, because the fact that Aya _hadn't_ said goodbye meant, hopefully, that he hadn't needed to because he would back.  Yeah and Omi was a Takatori…oh wait.  

"Where's Ken?" Youji asked; to get his mind off the weird thoughts it was producing.

"Out for a run, I decided to close the store for a day or two," Omi responded, sounding …older despite how young he might look.  Youji knew the kid could only be beaten down some many times, betrayed so many times before something broke that hadn't already broken.  Something that couldn't be fixed by his pseudo family, especially after Aya had once again reminded them all that it wasn't quite a family for everybody.

"Omi," Youji said again with something.  Something that was boiling to the surface, which he had been pushing down ever since he had first been told by Manx that Aya had left the hospital.  He kept pushing it down and it kept coming back up and he was seriously starting to be concerned about how long he could continue like this before he either imploded or hurt someone.  And if he did hurt someone it damn well better not be Omi.  Or Ken.  Or anyone else but some stupid dark beasts.  Maybe a mission would be good.  Except for the fact that they didn't work as effectively without their fucking leader.  Damn.

"Youji?" Omi asked, sounding anxious.  Oops, he had said that last word aloud.  Youji was pretty sure that someone was calling the men in white coats to come for him soon.  Oh well, at least the walls were padded and the food was free.

"I want you to find him," Youji stated firmly, now that he had Omi's attention.  Omi looked at him in consideration for a moment and then turned his cerulean gaze towards the table. 

"Kritiker has asked that we stay out of it," he parroted, sounding guilty and upset.

"We're listening to Kritiker now? When the hell did that happen?" he asked, angry.  Angry because he had expected Omi to be fully behind him when it came to this.  Because he had thought that Omi would want his family back.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Youji-kun," he said miserably and the older man regretted the snappish tone he had used.  Still, he was about to ask, 'why not' when the back door closed with a slam.  Omi rushed towards it, Youji not far behind.  

"Quite right, Omi," Manx said from behind Birman while the other woman asked if one of them could contact Ken.  Omi walked off to call the brunette while Youji leaved against the wall, not inviting them in.

"Should have known…" he muttered.

"Known what?" Birman asked curiously as she walked farther into the house uninvited, heading towards the mission room.  Manx followed her.

"That it wasn't Aya," he clarified, "Only women could make so much noise over something so simple."  He sneered at their backs, fed up with their mind games and evasive answers.

"Youji-kun?" Omi asked, coming back into the room.  Youji sighed and smiled at him before walking with him downstairs.

"So what can you tell us? Anything?" Youji asked, slightly bitter, as he flopped down onto the couch while Omi sat down at his computer chair.  

"We'd like to wait until Ken appears," Manx said infuriatingly.  Youji grinned at them obnoxiously and pulled his sunglasses out from where they were hanging at his neck and slipped them on his face.  He tilted his back against the couch and pretended to sleep.

"Would you like something to drink?" Omi offered, trying to play host while he fidgeted.  Manx declined but Birman requested a glass of water and he jumped up, grateful for something to do.  He was just handing her the water when Ken ran through the house like a chicken without a head, ending up gasping at the bottom of the stairs.

"What happened? Is anything wrong? Did you find Aya? Is he okay? Why did he leave?" he fired questions at the two women at a speed which would make any reporter proud, panting all the while.

"Breathe Ken-ken," Youji drawled, grinning at him like a proud older brother.  

"Why don't you sit down, Ken?" Birman offered, obviously a little shocked at how he had just spoken to her, "Here, have my water."   She handed him her glass as he sat down beside Youji, still hyper alert and wanting to know what was going on.  He rested the glass against his knee, holding it there but not drinking.  Youji watched, as the slight trembling of his knee set the water trembling so that there was a small ring of water on his jeans.

"We don't know, Ken-ken," Youji said, and it was a sign of how frantically Ken had gotten here if he had ignored the fact that Youji had used his detested nickname twice.  "We were waiting for _you_," he continued, dying for a cigarette.

Birman and Manx shared a look and Birman stepped forward ever so slightly.  "We're here to talk about Aya.  It seems, that Aya does not want to be found, by anyone" she clarified.  "We had been unable to find him.  But about an hour ago he contacted us.  The phone call was untraceable and though no 'Fujimiya's has left the country and his sister remains where she is, he could be anywhere in the world. He has left Weiss and Kritiker.  He gave an explanation but asked that it remain in strict confidence.  We are allowing him that privacy." She shrugged somewhat helplessly and glanced between them before looking at Manx.  

"He sounded well-" she continued, but Omi started speaking almost as soon as she paused.

"Did he say anything about us, ask you to tell us something? Anything he wanted us to know, maybe?" he asked; anguish loud in his normally cheerful voice.

Youji was glad for his sunglasses and his hair; no one could see anything with allies like them.

Birman once again looked at Manx and this time, it was the redhead that stepped forward.  "He said," she said before swallowing slightly and restarting, "he said to tell you, 'good-bye."

*****

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Carefully Out of Reach

                             By Verdorbene Unschuld

Disclaimer: I own very little, extremely little, and Weiss is not included in that very small amount of things I do own.  I'm using them for the entertainment of others and my own personal therapy.  Think, I'm opportunistic to use anime to escape from real life? Sue me.  Wait, on second hand, don't.

Warning: **Plenty **of angst, sadness, disease, hopelessness…it's depressing, NOT HAPPY. This is also Yaoi or m/m relationships.  Aya seems just a tad fucked up, well he's anyway.  

Rating: NC-17, there's swearing, there's sex, there will probably be a little violence if I'm in the right mood because it adds a nice side dish to all the angst.  

Pairing: YoujixAya

Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late?

A/N: What Aya reads to his sister (ack, the sappiness, I can't believe I have a muse that makes me gag):  It is the first line of Jane Austin's Pride and Prejudice, a marvellous book, and though I own a copy of the book, the story does not belong to me.

A/N 2:  Um... … … sorry, sorry, sorry, I am a horrible person for waiting so long to get this up.  Hangs head in shame.  

A/N 3: Excluding the first few sections of Youji and Aya pov, there is a fair bit of time in between each one.  When Youji knocks, it is about a month and a half later and then there are big spaces between each section.

A/N 4: Thank you all for not killing me.

_If I close my eyes and think of every nuance of your face, every facet of your eyes, the exact texture of your skin,  the particular softness of your lips,  the silkiness of your hair; if I sculpt your image with my imagination, when I open my eyes, you will not be there.  Fantasy is not reality, and that is all you'll ever be for me, a fantasy.  So very far out of reach. I wish I had a better imagination, even in my dreams I cannot make you love me.  _

Aya stared at his sister's sleeping face.  No, that wasn't quite right.  This wasn't his sister's sleeping face, it wasn't even his sister.  His sister smiled and laughed and cajoled him into doing crazy things his father would be furious about afterwards.  Even when sleeping, she had always been smiling, dreaming of the things she could do when she awoke.  This _thing_, whatever it was, was _not_ his sister.  It couldn't do anything she could do and he hated it.  Hated whatever had taken control of her body and made her into _this_.

But he loved the memory of his sister, loved what she had been.  And even if it was just something he had deluded himself into believing, he knew that his sister's mind and soul were still in the body he despised so much.  And he hoped that she could hear his voice and know that he loved her, even if he couldn't love the body before him. He hoped it would help her to throw out this vile thing that had stopped them both from living life.  

He had left his apartment once all the colours but blue had left the sky. There was no point in staying in a place that was his own and yet wasn't.  Besides they had moved his sister so that he would have a bed beside her if necessary and he wanted to see her room and make sure she had handled the move alright. It was nice, he supposed, if you could call a hospital room that without cynicism.  It had a view of the park he had stopped by so often after visits with her. More sun shined in here, making the girl look a little more alive than with just the dull lights of the hospital.

There was nowhere he had to go, nothing he had to do.  If nothing else good came of what was happening, at least he would be able to spend more time with his sister. He smiled at her as he sat down and picked up the top book of a pile that sat on the window ledge.  "It is a truth universally acknowledged;" he started as he curled up in the seat beside her bed, "that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife..."

****

"What do you mean exactly, by: 'goodbye'?" Youji asked, taking off his sunglasses to give Manx a penetrating look, one that had her taking a step back at the honest violence in his eyes. Ken shot up from his seated position, knocking the glass off his knee and onto the floor.  It shattered, and everyone was suddenly quiet in the wake of the crash.  Omi bent down, trying to pick the pieces up, hindered by the fact that his trembling hands kept dropping the glass.

Ken was still standing, looking bereft and forlorn, craving for someone to give him a purpose to latch onto.  Youji ignored both of his team-mates, instead concentrating on the two women who stood nervously before him.  "Answer the fucking question," he hissed out, quite ready and willing to wrap his hands around either of their throats for answers.  

"Exactly that," Birman said, but the pity in her eyes bellied the harshness of the words, "he isn't coming back this time, for whatever reason."

"Has he left Kritiker, or just Weiss?" Omi asked, sniffling slightly as he stared at the sparkling shards on the ground. 

"He is no longer apart of the organization," Birman stated, just as Manx said to Omi, "it had nothing to do with you," which could be taken in more than one way.

"Ch," Youji said, "So who's doing Aya's solo missions?" 

Manx glared at him; he would ask that. Youji was acting dangerously stupid at the moment, unsurprisingly stupid.  Manx had gone to Persia before they had come here and told him that no one in Weiss was taking Aya's old missions.  She has threatened to quit when he pressed the issues, knowing it would most likely mean her death if Persia ignored her 'request'.  He had stared at her quizzically for a few moments before agreeing.  She didn't know much about those missions, but she knew they weren't pretty and was going to give Aya the privacy of no one in Weiss knowing just how ugly they were from personal experience.  

"None of your concern," she answered sharply, a little delayed.  He just smiled bitterly at her and stood up.  

"Then you have nothing left to say that might interest me," he said as he walked up the stairs, ignoring Omi call for him to come back and Birman's frown.

"He's right;" she said firmly, "this meeting is over.  We need to leave.  Good evening."  Manx nodded at the two of them and left, both women knowing things were about to get ugly.

****

Youji walked into the garage, slamming the door shut behind him.  He didn't notice that his hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair.  'Good-bye, eh?' he thought as he grabbed the tool case.  'Good-bye?' he wanted to shout as he pulled the door back open and stormed up the stairs.  Down the hall and into Aya's room, past the mattress and the mark on the wall beside it.  The small burn from his cigarette was the only sign that someone might have lived in that room once.  He walked past it and into the other room in the flat where he sat down on the floor in front of the window.  He threw open the toolbox and got out the battery operated drill and as he tried to insert the drill bit into the screw, he realized his hands were shaking.  He stared at them a while, wondering when that had started before turning back to what he was doing.  One screw fell into his waiting, shaking palm, and then another.

The others were, despite their shock, inevitably drawn to the noise.  It took them a little while to locate where the sound was coming from and by the time they did two more screws had fallen.  Another one by the time Omi finally asked him to stop.

"No," he said in response and one more screw tumbled down to join the others in agreement.

Omi reached for his arm to stop him.  "Get off, Omi," he said, and those words should have been fair warning, damnit.  Omi should have known he was dangerously close to the edge. He could feel it bubbling up inside him, so much stronger than before, stronger than he ever thought possible.  The noise of the drill was grating on his nerves but he forced himself not to throw it across, concentrating on his task.

But Omi obviously wasn't thinking quite as quickly as he normally was.  "No," he mimicked unintentionally, trying to get the drill out of his hand.

"Get. Off." he repeated, not wanting to be touched. 

"Then stop trying to break Aya-kun's window seat," Omi yelled at him.

"No," he bellowed right back.

"Then no," Omi said, holding tighter, both of them ignoring Ken's shouts to stop.

"I said, let go," Youji yelled, pushing his elbow back.  It connected hard enough to force Omi to let go and put a hand to his nose, scurrying back.  The older man whirled; breathing heavily as he readied himself for a fight.  But there was only Omi sprawled along the floor with blood coming out of his nose and Ken glaring up at him before trying to take a look to make sure nothing had broken.  Only Omi.  Omi, who he had promised to himself not to hurt, and there he was, in pain and it was all his fault.  Only Omi.  Omi sitting on the floor with betrayed eyes, not a threat.  He threw the drill away and it hit the wall with a 'clunk', Youji wincing internally at the way Omi flinched.  Guilt was joining the rage that had found a new target: himself.

"I…I'm sorry…I-" he stopped, swallowed and looked away.  "I need to go," he walked out, ignoring Ken's curses.

He left his car, he didn't trust himself to drive, didn't trust that he wouldn't hit someone that was as innocent as Omi.  He walked aimlessly, ending up, as usual, in a bar.  Not a bar with fancy lights and pretty women, but a bar where the only the comfort you could get was drink. He ordered tequila shots and told the bartender to keep them coming.  No one talked in this kind of bar, except for the drunken murmur of regrets long since past.  

Youji drank until Ken came to pick him up.  The brunette explained something about tracers, which he couldn't quite pick up in the state he was in.  Ken threw the blonde into Seven's passenger seat and drove them home, listening to Youji's drunken ramblings with a worried frown.

When Youji woke the next morning, aching in more places than he could count and far too alone, nothing had changed.  But as walked by Aya's room he glanced through to the far end and saw a complete window seat.  It didn't really matter who had done it, or why they had chosen to, but they had, and he was grateful.

******

Aya yawned as he put the book aside.  Sighing, he got up from the chair, the tinge of pain from his side reminded him of his need to see the doctor, which reminded him of other things.  He bent down carefully and kissed his sister on the forehead, promising to come back and finish the book later.  

He walked out of the room and down the hall.  He needed to go two floors down and make a few turns.  He stepped off the elevator, ready to face whatever the doctors would tell him.  Well, not quite…

But sometimes, there are things you need to tell yourself so you can continue on.

******

A month and a half later (for those of you who don't read author's notes)

Youji knocked softly on the door, waiting for the Omi to answer.  There had been a time where he hadn't needed to knock; he could have just barged in, a time when there would have been nothing to knock on because the door was always open.  And even if he door had been closed for some reason, as it was every once and a while, the eldest Weiss had always been able to barge right in and be welcomed.  Aya's leaving had started a pattern of change, all of it unpleasant.

Omi's, 'yeah,' was heard through the door, muffled slightly.  Youji opened the door to see Omi swiping his thumb over a picture frame, before putting it pack on his desk.  He stared at the picture as Omi turned away from it; the four of them together.  He hated when Omi looked at those pictures, the lonely and betrayed faced he had whenever he did.  Hell, he hated pictures of the four of them in general, hated any reminder of what once had been, what they had lost.  Enough of recent days he'd hated Aya, but today was not one of those days.

"I want you to find him," Youji declared abruptly as he closed the door behind him.  Omi's head whirled to look at him sharply, disbelief clearly written on his features. Youji had refused to say a word about Aya since Manx and Birman had come by to give the man's last words, or rather, word.  He had taken it to the point where he would leave the room if he heard even the fangirls mention the redhead.

"You know what that would mean, don't you?" Kritiker had specifically forbid them to try and find Aya.  Manx had gone as far as too say they would be considered traitors if they did.  None of them believed that, even without Aya, they were still Kritiker's most successful team.  Kritiker couldn't afford to loose that, especially since they supposedly didn't have their best assassin.  But there would be repercussions and none of them pretty.

"Only if they find out," Youji pointed out with cheerfulness he didn't feel.  He had decided, finally, after one more dream of Aya, that it was time to try and do something about this.  Because there was always the possibility that Aya had amnesia or something like that.  Unfortunately it was only the first decision of many.  He had thought about not bringing Omi into this but, despite not really wanting to, he had decided that he had to.  Kritiker was watching them all far too closely for Youji to use his old contacts and Omi had a subtly he lacked.  So it was out of necessity that he came to the young blond; that and Omi needed someone to give him a purpose, a cause.

So he was doing this in part for Omi.  Really, he was.

Omi stood there, chewing his lip for a moment before turning to Youji and giving him a smile.  There was something in his cerulean blue eyes that seemed more familiar and he hadn't seemed that happy since Aya had left and something twanged inside Youji at the thought.

"We'll find him, Youji-kun; I knew you'd change your mind eventually." Omi hugged him and he ruffled the kid's hair.  The first hug since Aya had left.  

"I'm glad somebody did."

******

Aya sighed as he walked down the hallway towards his sister's room.  To be honest, his and his sister's room.  There had been chemotherapy and then more Chemo, different Chemo during the past couple months. They had destroyed his immune system enough that the doctor had told him he should be in isolation.  He had asked if he could continue to see his sister.  when told no, he had told the doctor that they should be more concerned about keeping germs and viruses away from his sister than his eventual death. The doctor told him he wouldn't necessarily die.  With the way his body rejected the treatment and that his immune system was so non-existent that a sniffle could kill him, he had just left.  But now he lived in the hospital, his apartment not collecting dust only because of the Ivory Tower's cleaning service.

And as he walked past the nurses and the doctors and the patients and the visitors one question refused to leave his mind.

What was it like to live, that other people thought he should want to so badly?

******

"Youji," Omi called from upstairs, "YOUJI!" he called again, five seconds later when he got no response.  

"Yeah chibi?" Youji called back, not about to go all the way upstairs before he knew what he was being called for.

"Just come upstairs," he hollered, not about to explain it on different floors of the house.

"Fine, fine," Youji muttered as he walked up the stairs, inwardly complaining about tyrannical chibis.  He threw open the door, ignoring the formality they were finally starting to get passed. "What?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame.

Omi grinned at him, seemingly so very proud of himself as he declared, "I found him."

*****

Aya stared at his sister from his bed; sitting cross-legged as he leaned against the raised mattress.  She was beautiful, as always, even without the smile that would tell him she had awoken.  For once in his life, he did not wish for his sister to wake up.  He did not want her to see him like this; didn't want to see her finally open her eyes only for his to close in irrevocable death.  He remembered his words to the doctor a few days before.  "_It is inevitable_ _that I will die soon, my sister will not. She is the one that must be protected.  And as long as my presence causes no harm to her, I will spend the rest of the time I have by her side."_

He ran a hand through his thinner hair; he hadn't been on the treatment for long enough that it had all fallen out, but less was there.  He found he missed it, despite the annoyance it had caused him.  The thought reminded him bemusedly of Youji.

He walked around her bed to the window, careful not to touch her.  He had been so nervous lately; worried that contact with him would curse her like it had everybody else.  So he watched her and he read to her and talked to her but he didn't brush her hair anymore, or kiss her forehead.  He wondered if she noticed.

He thought, morbidly, that at least this way, instead of abruptly disappearing, he would only fade away. 

*******

Youji stared at the door, at his palm on the handle.  He would have laughed at his own indecision if he wasn't so mentally sick with nervousness.  He had spent hours convincing Omi to let Youji go see Aya alone and now that he was here he couldn't decide whether or not to open the door.  He almost felt bad about not letting Omi come now; who he was sure would have just barged right.  The blonde boy had worked hard to find Aya.  He had found Aya's sister first, knowing that Aya wouldn't have moved far from her.  On paper she had moved to multiple different locations before going straight back to Magic School Bus Hospital, except in a different room.  He had followed the money paying her bills into an account.  Part of the money going into that account went to another one with higher interest, almost two million American dollars pilled high inside.  Omi had made the assumption that Aya was paying the money as a trust fund for when Aya-chan woke up.  So he moved up the ladder to the account that was putting money aside for Aya-chan.  Another number account, with three sources and half the money going to Aya-chan and half to an unknown. Ignoring the unknown, he had found to his shock that the three sources had been Persia's, Manx's and Birman's personal accounts.  That had confounded both Youji and Omi but it had been inconsequential compared to the disappointment of not finding Aya.  Omi had hacked into the 'unknown's' account more on a whim than any sort of hope it would be Aya. That account once again split into three accounts, a personal account under the name of Arishima Hideo, an account which paid for rent at The Ivory Tower, and intriguingly enough another for Magic School Bus.  Omi had looked at the personal account first, seeing normal things like grocery stores and such.  Then he looked at the Ivory Tower account, and some of the information he had later found on the apartment's database hinted that it could be Aya.  He had been about to switch to the last file when something caught his eye.  He had smiled at Youji as he told this part, because Arishima Hideo had requested and been granted the right to build a window seat in his bedroom.

Youji winced at how angry he'd gotten then, at the thought that Aya was still working for Kritiker and just didn't want to see them, see him.  But Omi had calmed him down, turning from his computer to look at Youji.  "_On Kritiker files he was actually killed on our last mission together, when he was shot.  Supposedly, no one but __Manx__, __Persia__, and Birman know that he is still alive.  Money has been going into his and Aya-chan's accounts_ _weekly in small amounts so as to remain unnoticed since he left here."  _He also reminded him that neither of them had looked at the last account or at Arishima Hideo files at Magic School Bus.  And what they had found…

Youji was gratefully pulled from his thoughts by the terrifying idea of the knob turning under his palm.  The door swung open to reveal Aya, looking alive and piqued.  "Stop standing in front of the door, it's annoying," he said, "Either come…or go."

*******

TBC

See, I told you I'm a horrible, horrible person.  I hope the next chapter will come out MUCH faster than this one.  


	5. Chapter 5

Carefully Out of Reach

By Verdorbene Unschuld

Disclaimer: I own very little, extremely little, and Weiss is not included in that very small amount of things I do own. I'm using them for the entertainment of others and my own personal therapy. Think, I'm opportunistic to use anime to escape from real life? Sue me. Wait, on second hand, don't.

Warning: **Plenty **of angst, sadness, disease, hopelessness…it's depressing, NOT HAPPY. This is also Yaoi or m/m relationships. Aya seems just a tad fucked up, well he's anyway. 

Rating: NC-17, there's swearing, there's sex, there will probably be a little violence if I'm in the right mood because it adds a nice side dish to all the angst. 

Pairing: YoujixAya

Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late?

_If I close my eyes and think of every nuance of your face, every facet of your eyes, the exact texture of your skin, the particular softness of your lips, the silkiness of your hair; if I sculpt your image with my imagination, when I open my eyes, you will not be there. Fantasy is not reality, and that is all you'll ever be for me, a fantasy. So very far out of reach. I wish I had a better imagination, even in my dreams I cannot make you love me. _

Aya glanced him over, "Either come … or go," he said and turned, walking to the window to look at the park below.  Aya had left the door open, had given him a welcoming invitation in Aya standards.  Eons ago, he would have walked in with an eighth of the enthusiasm he had just received from Aya.   But for the first time, in all the times he'd ever walked into Aya's room decidedly uninvited, he had not let Youji look at him. Now, with Aya's back towards him, he couldn't tell what Aya really wanted, couldn't read any loneliness or desperation in his eyes.  Without the insight Aya unwillingly gave him with those violet orbs, he had no clue as to whether, despite the redhead's words, he was wanted there or not.  Youji stood there for a moment, watching Aya rigidly _not_ look at him and thought harshly, 'fuck it.' 

The door closed resoundingly behind him.

Aya continued to stare at the glass in the widow as the door closed, so Youji felt the need to start up the conversation.  "Either come or go?" he reiterated, "Don't you think that's a little caustic after so many months?"

Aya turned his head slightly to look at Youji over his shoulder.  The hospital lights showed how sick he really was, and Youji uncomfortably lowered his view to the hands clasped behind the man's back.   They were trembling; whether from his presence or something else, Youji didn't know and the muscles in the arms attached to them was gone, skin stretched taunt over what little was left.  He closed his eyes and remembered how graceful those hands had been, arranging flowers or playing along an old piano.  But the memories were no distraction to Aya's next words.

"What more do you want me to say? I should hate you," Aya's voice, always so smooth and deep was now almost rasping.  Youji swallowed and looked at him again.  He could see the lines of pain and weariness on a face that though always pale, was nowadays far past the point of fair.  Violet eyes were a duller shade of grey and the hair he had always adored had thinned out now and was more straggly without the small attention it had once received.  For so many reasons, it hurt to look at Aya, to stare into dead eyes as he agreed with the man.

"And that's the problem," Aya said bitterly, glancing at Aya-chan's oblivious face before turning back to the window.  He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, closing his eyes as he whispered, "Because I don't."

Something in Youji sprung forward at the admission so that even as he forced himself to push it down, knowing how dangerous it could be, knowing that it would only lead to disappoint, he still found himself taking steps towards Aya.  He stopped once Aya started to speak again.  

"It's funny, in a fucked up way, even when I first found out, I knew I wasn't going to be able to – just like I couldn't when you…," he paused and swallowed before continuing, "I wasn't supposed to see you.  The message I sent with Manx was supposed to ensure that."

"Sorry," Youji responded, unrepentant.  Anger and resentment laced his tone as he continued, "Manx must have misconstrued the message then, because all we got was a half-assed good-bye that made it seem like we were a loose end you figured should probably be tied up."

"Hn." 

"_You_ should have _told_ us, Aya.  We shouldn't have had to have found out by some fucking document on a computer," he growled accusingly. 

Aya whirled suddenly; the spark of anger bringing a little bit of colour back into his eyes and forcing some of the apathy out.  "Are you happier now?" he asked, all but hissing, "are you glad you know?"

"Shit…no…I mean…fuck…Aya," he started and stopped, not sure what to say.

"Don't say anything. Leave."

 "No," he stated, crossing his arms.  "I'm not happy that this happening to you, but I wish I had known from the beginning.  I would have been here with you-,"

"Exactly!" Aya said, glaring at him, "Did you ever consider my privacy, my personal wish that you _not_ know about this before you sent Omi on a hacking spree?  Did you ever think about the idea that I might not want you here, every step of the way, so that you could watch me die?  So that I could watch you sit there and remember….,"

Youji blinked at the redhead.  He had never thought that Aya wouldn't want to see him, unless Aya had hated him, in which case he would have fought for their – friendship.  But Aya didn't hate him, and Youji had lost him anyway.  

Aya snarled at him, furious at his incapacity to think.  "If you want to stay here, fine," Aya stated, "But I'm not staying here with you."  He walked to the door but the statement had dragged Youji from his stupor and he reached out and grabbed Aya's wrist, wincing at how frail it seemed in his grip and loosening his hold.

"You shouldn't be going out.  It's bad enough you're not in isolation," he said, glaring at Aya as the man tried to pull his wrist away from Youji's grip.  It frightened Youji when he couldn't, and he watched, heart breaking, as Aya settled for a glare instead.

"I don't need to be protected by you," Aya hissed out, backing as far away as Youji's hold allowed him to, "Gods, if anything I need to protected _from_ you."  

The bitterness, anger, and self-hate in the redhead's voice were just as shockingly hurtful as the implications of the actual words.  In his surprise, Youji's grip relaxed slightly and Aya slid his hand out, and with one sorrowful unnoticed glance back, he slipped out the door.  Youji leaned against the door, not even trying to follow as his own conscious threw all its torments back at him – this time not in his own voice, but in Aya's.

******

Aya walked into the apartment building, ignoring the slightly startled security guard.  So what if he hadn't been here for most of the time since it had come in to his possession, so what if the only reason it was clean was because of the service the building provided; it was still his.  He stood alone in the elevator.  The gold-tinted mirror that covered the car's walls showed someone else.  He turned his head up to look at the buttons light up, indicating that there was only one level to go before he could leave.  He gritted his teeth at the cheerful 'bing' that announced the opening of the doors and he stepped out, walking down the corridor until he reached his door. It seemed as if nothing had been touched or taken since he had last been in the apartment arranging things for a prolonged stay at the hospital.  

Curling up on the sofa in the living room, he put every ounce of his being into _not_ thinking.  He stared at the picture directly in his line of sight.  One of Aya-chan smiling congenially back at him from the cabinet on the far wall.  He got up with effort, walking over and picking up the frame before sitting back down.  He ran his hand down the piece of glass, it smooth coolness soothing.  He flipped it over; turning each holding bracket hesitatingly, as if it might attack him.  Aya lifted the backing out, placing it gently on the coffee table before pulling out the contents, which he also put face-up on the small table.  Five people stared back at him. One of them was him – except it wasn't him.

He stared at himself, scowling slightly at the camera with Youji's arm draped over his shoulder and Ken and Omi in front of them.  Even there, he could see his image leaning ever so slightly against Youji's arm.  Fool.  He had prided himself on his restraint, on making it painfully clear that he and the blonde had just been friends. Yet here was solid proof he had done no such thing.  He snarled and fell back onto the sofa with disgust, leaving the picture on the table.  

He awoke to the sharp sound of the phone ringing.  He frowned at it sleepily, wondering who would call him, when he realised he should probably pick it up.

"Hello?" he said casually, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  He had slept for a few hours from the lack of light outside.  

"It's Youji.  Let me in, will you?" 

"No," he responded, bringing the phone down, resting his fingers on it lightly. 

It rang again and then again before he picked it up.

"Stop calling," he ordered over the phone.

"I will if you let me up," Youji responded cheerfully, sounding like he had once used to.  The falsely cheerful tones grated on Aya's nerves.

"You know I hate to repeat myself," Aya snapped back, in no mood to hear it, to hear _that_ voice.

"I don't know, I mean you've changed your name, your apartment, what's to say-"

Aya hung up.  He was breathing hard as he glared at the phone.  He didn't need to wait long before it rang again.

"Youji," he said sharply.

"The security guard is going to call the police if I don't go and as I'm _not_ going until I talk to you…" Youji trailed off, sounding annoyed and stubborn, "Do you want me to be arrested?"

"It's no less than you deserve," he retorted, only to become angry at the guilt that infused him afterwards.

"I didn't ask what I deserved," Youji replied, softer but no less stubborn.  Aya grimaced at the hurt not quite hidden in the man's voice.  "I _asked_ if you wanted me to be arrested?" he repeated.

He made no verbal response, just pressing six so the door would be opened and hanging up the phone.  He stared at the device for a moment as if Youji might come out of it instead of coming through the door.  The knock from outside dragged him from his thoughts and he whirled, hitting his shin on the coffee table.  He looked down- the pictures were still there. Aya ignored the shouting for him to 'open the fucking door' in favour of hurriedly putting the frame together.  He placed the picture back on the cabinet and threw open the door.

"Wow, you actually opened it.  I expected you to let me sit outside the door now that you don't need to worry about the police anymore, _Hideo-san,_" Aya flinched slightly at the inflection on Youji's last word. He frowned but didn't respond, only opened the door wider to let the blonde man in.  

Youji walked through the doorway, glancing around at what was visible of the apartment before slipping off his shoes and flopping himself down on the sofa.  Aya's scowl deepened as he realised that Youji had sat exactly where he had been sitting moments before.  

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked striving for the polite tone he'd used often when he was young and hadn't used since.  He desperately wanted to leave the room.

Youji smiled at him, and something stirred in him, a coil of anger tightened in his gut.  None of it was real, the controlled smile, the glance overtop of his sunglasses…it was driving Aya nuts.  "When did you decide to play host?" he asked.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Aya said with a raised eyebrow before walking into the kitchen.  Youji got up and followed him, making his shoulders twitch in displeasure.

"How do you have anything anyways?  Do you really think anything lasted while you've been gone?" he could hear the amusement in Youji's voice.

"It's called a freezer," he said, the word idiot implied by his tone as he pulled out a can of frozen concentrated orange juice.  He brushed past Youji, refusing to look at the man as he reached for a pitcher before turning to the sink.

Youji watched as Aya kept his back to him, once again deliberately not looking at him as the blonde smiled tiredly.  It was still so easy to push the man's buttons and hide behind the anger that was almost a constant between them.  Youji knew Aya sure as hell wasn't going to be the first to try and bridge the awkward silence that had appeared.  The redhead was the king of silence, including the awkward kind.  If he hadn't been famous for his family's downfall, his unusual colouring, or throwing swords at helicopters, Aya would have been famous for the ability to not say _anything_ for the longest period of time.  

He could have made millions on it on some weird American show probably.

But then again, Aya wasn't a capitalist.

He was a dying ex-vigilantly with a capitalist father.  

What a difference a generation can make, my friends.

Youji shook his head, trying to get out of the odd and useless mindset he was in. Someone had to try and make this work, even if the 'this' was indefinable at the moment.  There was only one small problem.  He could thing of hundreds of things to say, humorous, stupid, sad, flirty, you name it, but he had no idea what would help and what would hinder. So he settled for a neutral, "umm……" 

"Why are you here, Youji?" Aya asked, _finally_ turning to look at the man, revealing the emptiness and weariness in his eyes.  Fear washed over Youji as he realised that Aya had given up.  He hadn't wanted the blonde to see his countenance because he knew that Youji would fight to try and save him.

And he didn't want to be saved.

This wasn't Aya's normal stubborn nature refusing to ask for help.  It was Aya _wanting_ to _die_.  Well Youji wouldn't let him.  Fuck him.  When the fuck did Aya, of all people, start giving up?

"I'm not letting you die," Youji growled aloud by accident, but meaning it all the same.

Aya appeared surprised for a moment before his eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest and his expression twisted.  "And how do you plan on managing what doctors and chemotherapy couldn't?  I didn't realise you could stop cells from mutating," he murmured, walking out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice.

Youji reached out and grabbed his arm, spilling some orange juice, "Oh fuck you.  Did you even try, angst boy?  It's such a perfect ending for someone as dramatic as you.  Are you that desperate for death that you'll accept _this_?"

"Screw you, Youji.  What do you think you know of me that allows you to judge me?  And even if that was true, how would you be able to save me from myself?  You're a _killer_, Youji.  You're no good at saving people, only the opposite." 

Youji was probably more surprised by the punch than Aya was.  He only realised that he had thrown it by noticing how the extended arm connected to his shoulder.  He watched, isolated, as Aya fell, one hand reaching out to grab the top of a cabinet for balance.  A picture fell off the lacquered wood and the sound of breaking glass pulled the blonde out of his daze.  He reached for Aya only to have him jerk away, turning around to start picking up the broken glass.  His hands shook and he kept on dropping the pieces.  Youji bent down to help as Aya ignored him.  Carefully removing the picture to keep it from being ruin by the sharp shards, he realised that there was not one put two photographs.  

"Aya…?"  Aya ignored him, intent on cleaning up the mess and keeping his head down.

"Aya, what is this?" he asked, sharper this time as he glanced down at the second photo.  The one of Weiss.

Aya leaned back onto his heels and closed his eyes, "Youji I'd like you to leave."  He sounded tired and blood dripped from his hand from where he had tried to clench it around the fragments.

Youji tsked and leaned closer.  He grabbed the wounded hand and pulled out the embedded shards.  "No, I'm not leaving you now that I finally found you," he said, gently but firmly, "Why did you keep this?"

"It's just a picture, Youji."

"It's not just a picture!" Aya opened his eyes at the angry tone, gaze shifting from desperate green eyes to the picture held in a golden hand and back again.  He said nothing, finally glancing around at the floor covered in spilt orange juice and glass.

"Why, Aya?  If nothing during Weiss mattered to you, if the only thing you cared about was your sister, why keep this?"

"I never said that," Aya moved his gaze to the space between them.  It was so small.

"What? What?" Youji grabbed him by the shoulders and shaking, "You left us. You always stated your sister was the most important thing.  The fact that we didn't matter was implied."

"My sister is the most important thing.  But she wasn't the only thing that mattered," he looked up again, watching, strangely frightened/eager to know what Youji's reaction might be.

  
"Well shit," Youji said; he backed up and Aya felt strangely disappointed.  He felt strangely bereft without the feeling of Youji's breath on his skin.  He couldn't quite understand why he had wanted an explosive reaction.

Aya watched as Youji ran a hand through his hair.  "You never showed it, never let on that you cared at all," he muttered.

Aya snorted derisively and as slowly worked his way up, hurting more than he ever should just from the simple fall.  Youji took a step forward to help but changed his mind, letting his hand fall.  "Because I always show my real feelings?" Aya questioned, an eyebrow raised.

Youji smirked ever so slightly and said, "Taketori."  Aya growled.  "Case and point," he continued, looking slightly smug.

"Alright, so there were a few extreme cases…" Aya allowed, albeit grudgingly.  He sat down on the couch, abandoning the picture frame as a lost cause and placing the few shards left in his hand on the coffee table.  The picture was still in Youji's hand so reached over and tugged at it a little until he captured it.  He tapped the photo against the coffee table lightly a few times and sighed.  

"It was just a reminder, that's all," he said, looking up to find Youji staring at him oddly.

"A reminder of what?" Youji asked, sitting down beside him, unknown questions in his eyes.

"A reminder of Weiss, of what I had gained and lost, of a lot of things," he frowned, "Why?

"Why what?"

"Why do you care about this?  Why come now, knowing it's too late to ask questions that don't matter?" he stared at the blonde, anger coming to the surface.  He had dealt with this, said his goodbyes, so why did Youji keep trying to make him remember his past?

Youji shrugged, "Hell if I know."

Aya twitched and his hand clenched and unclenched in a familiar manner.  Youji blandly wondered if he should be frightened by the fact that he was comforted by Aya wanting to throttle him.  

Ahh…those warm fuzzy feelings of better times.

Hmph.

But just like then, Aya was here, in the moment, focusing on Youji as he all but hissed in the blonde's face.  He was _here_, in front of Youji.  Here.

He swore to himself that he wasn't imagining this, that this wasn't another dream gone wrong. But he couldn't quite make himself believe it.  He had touched him earlier, just today mere minutes ago he had grabbed his arm…but still…

He reached out and Aya started at the feeling of his fingers on the man's face.  The redhead tried to lower his gaze but Youji just lifted his chin until he could see the sparks of anger and hesitation shooting through the violet orbs.

"How do you not know?" Aya asked, the hesitation in the fore now, despite the irritation in his softly spoken words.

"The only things I know anything about are love, sex and killing people," he said, hands still cupping Aya's chin as he spoke a small untruth, "And those really don't have much to do with this situation, do they?" 

"…No, they don't," Aya said, but Youji could have sworn he had heard…no…he hadn't.

There hadn't been disappointed in Aya's voice as he said it. He had just been imagining what he wanted to hear.  But as Aya finally pulled his chin away from Youji's grasp, he couldn't be sure. 

And if it hadn't been his imagination, he'd be damned if he'd let this chance go without one hell of a fight.


End file.
